Your words are rocking me,
Jolts like bats flap, and trees snap,
You pull me to and open wounds through,
I am trying to be too busy to remember, but I'm falling in again, who saw, who knew?

When I was running I forgot that I was tired, walking on like hills climb, in mountain valleys within moon shine.
Eyes of fire.

These hands shake with vehemence,
I've not lost for grievance,
Just maybe inside my mind some more
To watch plants grow through impedence.
Clinging to forcing eyes not forlorn.

Once told make good the promises of youth
I said **** that, let's see what this baby can do.
I read grasp by wing the empty sky
Said alright, now I'm flyin'.
Learned take to task the soil of earth
Worked my *** off, now I'm tired.
Overheard Sail by sea tho waves be high
Puked my guts out when I tried.
Preacher man said I should harvest the bounty of friendly ways
Uncle Sam taught me to shoot first and make friends when they are dead.
Poets say love requiting all your days
I've loved and learned a thing or two, then got left blue (can you blame 'em)
Philosophy 101 lesson learned Let age grace you with humility
Marlboro Red says that I'm the hottest cowboy in hell
Life's golden rule Grace this place with your tranquility
I've rocked and rolled my way all through.
One thing I've learned: life can be zen but zen is boring.
Zen's for old age, now's for roaring.

r ~ 6/1/14

The worst part of hollow, is filling with non-nice things.

I don't even have words,
For the ways that I don't feel,
I am not the waving of the fields.

I hold onto songs about the moon,
My tides do not swell with her,
I am more the darkness in this room,
Cold, unmoving, absolute.

I am not the motion of your hair,
As he runs his fingers through it,
I no longer even stare.

I Am not the climbing of tree,
I do not yearn upward,
Is there anything to see?
(or be?)

I am not the warmness of your breath,
Clinging tight to your fingers,
And the inside of your chest,

I am not the dreams you make,
As dragons fly by night,
And sparks flow in your wake.

I am not the whispers,
You feel close to your ears,
I am more like distant echoes,

A glass vase upon the floor,
Faster than it can stand,
Becoming evermore,
the likeness of it's impermanence.
The contents it can't hold,
Intermixed with its being,
Becomes a new truth.

We are that which we hold,
when we cannot let go.
Sometimes life lets go for us.

When I scream with those loud, fast songs, it's acceptable.

It's been a year of heroes.
I've met so many of them
Since January.  

Ed Kowalczyk, Eric Church...
And Neil Gaiman today.
They were

All the same comforting
Base of blood and bones as
The rest of us.